


Stall

by RhineGold



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Gen, Non-Consensual Touching, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29714511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhineGold/pseuds/RhineGold
Summary: Rush had the obnoxious habit of never doing anything close to what Young wanted, and very rarely managed to pitch it into the ballpark of what he could expect. And so, it was no surprise when Rush did nothing close to any of the various reactions he'd considered.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	Stall

**Author's Note:**

> This is a scrap but I liked it and I'm just... sharing everything I've ever written tonight so whelp

It was an awkward conversation, one that clearly neither of them wished to be having. 

He listened to her concerns, nodding at the right times and interjecting a few murmurs of agreement. It was a strange issue to bring to his attention, but once it had been brought to hers, she didn't know where to take it from there. He suspected, as well, that she did not want to be the bad guy here. 

He was used to being a bad guy. Still, that didn't provide a whole lot of insight into what to do in this situation. 

Eventually, he decided on a course of action that seemed so ludicrous that it was almost embarrassing, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. 

It was late when Rush finally came out of the apple core. Time seemed endless and fluid here, but he knew he'd been up for 24 hours at this point, so there was no way Rush hadn't been on his feet for at least double that. 

He moved past Young, so immersed in his notepad that he didn't even notice him, standing motionless in the long shadows of the corridor. His stride seemed shorter than usual, less leonine, wavering as he half-trotted, half-staggered. Rush never seemed to walk anywhere, he'd noticed long ago, but his full-steam approach seemed to be rapidly failing him these days. 

When Young reached out, Rush yelped, a jagged, startled exhalation with more air behind it than actual sound. He wrapped his arms around the man, lifting him bodily off his feet and against him. Camile was right, he realized, as he swiped his head to the side to avoid a hard-flung elbow. Rush smelled. 

At some point, Rush seemed to realize who was holding him - his snarls and grunts took on a deeper, more furious tone, containing something that was probably Young's title, possibly even his name. Young ignored him, carefully and methodically pinning any limb he could reach as he inched his way backwards down the hallway.

Finally, they reached the intended goal. He twisted his body hard, spinning the struggling man around, flinging him bodily into the space. Rush rolled across the floor, banging hard on elbows and knees, coming up short against the wall harder than Young had anticipated. The added bonus was that this gave him the time he needed to slam the door shut and spin the lock. He'd already removed the panel before lurking in the hallways, and it only took a moment to find the wires Brody had taped off and kill them. 

When he finished, he returned his attentions to the other man. Rush lay on one side against the wall, clearly still stunned by his sudden impact. The heap he'd tumbled into looked so small and sad, it even managed to tug at Young's sense of pity. At least until he took another breath and got a further whiff of the man. 

Rush offered stunningly little resistance as Young reached down and tugged free both of his shoes. Flinging them into the corner by the door, he then turned his attentions to Rush's jeans. The mathematician raised shaking hands then, a weak attempt to fend him off, but he slapped both wrists aside easily, stripping him down to his underpants with one harsh jerk. 

The vest proved trickier, and Rush seemed to be coming back around, making it more difficult. Finally, he managed to pry the fabric loose, rolling it with a bit more care than the other garments, since he was pretty sure Rush kept his glasses in there. 

Deciding he'd made enough of an effort to protect Rush's clothing, Young reached overhead and palmed the switch, activating the shower mist. 

Rush had the obnoxious habit of never doing anything close to what Young wanted, and very rarely managed to pitch it into the ballpark of what he could expect. And so, it was no surprise when Rush did nothing close to any of the various reactions he'd considered. 

Rush screamed.


End file.
